


Where the North Wind Meets the Sea

by elknie



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: F/M, Family Drama, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Gen, Plothole Fill, Pre-Canon, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-12-08
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:34:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21576913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elknie/pseuds/elknie
Summary: The people of Arendelle long lived in harmony with the Northuldrans. It is said, however, the Northuldra grew too powerful and caused an ambush during a peaceful celebration. The people of Arendelle believe that in this battle Chief Bierrán killed the merciful and loved King Runeard, and a great fog descended over the Enchanted Forest, allowing no one in or out. Prince Agnarr, only a child, returns to the Kingdom to rule. Meanwhile the Chief's granddaughter, Iduna, finds herself on the other side of the fog. This is a story of their journey, forever changed by the actions of their ancestors.
Relationships: Agnarr & Iduna (Disney), Agnarr/Iduna (Disney)
Comments: 21
Kudos: 69





	1. Mothers and Fathers

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first time ever publishing a fanfiction. I became very inspired after watching Frozen 2 and thought I'd attempt writing a backstory for Iduna and Agnarr. I'll try and stay as close to cannon as possible, while filling in some of the questions left unanswered. I'll also be trying to make this story roughly historically accurate, and be going off the idea that Frozen is in the year 1839. If you have any suggestions or ideas, feel free to comment. 
> 
> Please enjoy! Title comes from the lyric of Frozen 2's "All is Found."

“Far north, across a great ocean, lives the land of the spirts.” 

The children listened and watched in awe, huddled as close to the storyteller and fire as they could. With the wave of his hand, the fire moved, the spirts crafting the flames to echo the story. Now it made a mountain of ice, sparks sprinkling down like falling snow. 

“It is said,” the man whispered, drawing all children near, “that if you make it to Ahtohallan, you are able to see the truth of the past.” The children gasped with excitement, watching the fire spin and shape into images of their lies—the mighty river, the reindeer herd, the village they lived in.

“That’s quite enough,” a woman’s voice turned the fire back to its normal state. When she arrived she placed a hand on the teller’s shoulder. “Its past everyone’s bedtime. The chief needs rest.” The little ones, warmed by the story and the fire, scurried away to their parents, eager to dream about Ahtohallan. All around them the animals scurried away to their nests, and the creatures of the night took flight, watching over the people of the village.

“Come, Iduna.” The woman reached out her hand to the one child who remained. Reluctantly the girl took her mother’s hand.

“Goodnight Grandpa.” Iduna whispered, waving goodbye. As the fires died, everyone in the village returned to their homes. Fires were left to smolder, animals were checked over, and children pointed to the stars as they were ushered inside. The sky was clear tonight, and through the tree cover, you could see the sparkle of stars. Iduna entered her family’s tent. Composed on one side of a bed piled with furs, on the other a desk that functioned as a dresser, holding all the family’s belongings. In-between Iduna’s toys were scattered, carved wooden reindeer, dolls, and numerous charcoal drawings she had made. She ran and leapt onto the bed, where her father already lay, working on another wood carving.

“ _Áddjá_ told us about Ahtohallan!” The girl curled up against her father’s side. He put aside his carving and pulled the pelts around them. 

“I should go speak to him…” The girl’s mother said as she pulled her hair out if its long braid. “He seemed troubled today.”

“Isá…whatever the matter is, I’m sure it will be resolved by morning.” 

“Sing mama!” Iduna exclaimed, for her most favorite thing the world was to hear her mother’s songs. And so, Isá sung her lullaby, and by the end, her daughter had fallen fast asleep, dreaming of the forest’s spirits.

_Where the north wind meets the sea_  
_There’s a river full of memory_  
_Sleep, my darling, safe and sound_  
_For in this river all is found…_

Far across the forest and snowy meadows, in a stately room of a grand castle, a boy sat at the end of a long table. He propped his head up on his hands, his elbows on the table. He watched the wax of the taper candle in front of him drip, drip, drip…

“How long will it take to build the dam?” The King boomed from across the table.

“Ten years, at least, sire.” A timid voice followed.

“I will not have that!” He shouted again, his deep green eyes blazing. 

The boy looked up. His father sat, surrounded by his royal advisors. “These people, they need to be stopped!” The King shouted, slamming his fists down. The boy did not move, he was used to this.

“King Runeard, if I may,” the advisor with the mouse-like voice spoke again. “the people have shown us no aggression, in fact, they wish to open trade with us once more. It is noted that when your mother, Queen Lovisa, opened trade with the Northuldrans, Arendelle benefitted greatly.”

“My mother was foolish. We have trade routes that extend across the globe, these people are an interference.” The King scoffed.

“Sire please…I know you are grieving but—”

“This has nothing to do with my grief! Make preparations to build the dam come spring.” The King stood, looking over, to where, curled up on the chair, his son had fallen sleep.

“We must tell them—"

“Then send a party to explain why the dam must be built, and why it will benefit them.”

“Of course!” The advisor collected his papers and scurried away, followed out by the others.

Once alone the King walked over to his son, picking him up in his arms. He was still little enough to carry, but perhaps too old to be put to bed like this. The King could still remember the first time he held him, and how small he had been. He had been born in the warmth and beauty of Spring, his eyes the color of the green meadows. But the little baby was no more, his son was now a King in the making.

The carried his son out of the room and down the hallway, up the grand stairs, and into his bedroom. The only light came from the moon outside the glass panes, it illuminated the room, neatly kept, perfect in every manner. Toys were stacked in chests or neatly pushed against the wall. A rocking horse sat in the middle of the room. Beside the bed was a small pile of children’s books. He looked away.

The King placed his son in the bed and pulled the sheets around him. As he stood, a voice sounded. “Tell me a story, Papa.” It whispered.

“A story?” The King responded. He had never received such a request.

“Mama always read a story.” The boy smiled.

“I have no stories to tell, goodnight Prince Agnarr.” The King knew his children felt his pain, but he did not know how to be a father to them. He had been raised to be a King, taught to command battles, not raised to be a Father, or taught how to be with children. With no more words he left the room to return to his own, where he would face another sleepless, quiet, lonely night. After his father left the Prince rose, running towards the window. With the help of a step stool, left in the room to help him reach the bookcase, he became eye level with a window. He gently pushed open the glass pane, and leaned out into the night. The winter’s air brushed across his face. Across the Kingdom lights in windows began to go out. Everything grew quiet. 

His mother had been from a faraway Kingdom. She said Arendelle was the most magical place she had been too. She always said that at night, if you closed your eyes, and listened well, you could hear the spirts sing…

_Yes, she will sing to those who’ll hear_  
_And in her song, all magic flows_  
_But can you brave what you most fear?_  
_Can you face what the river knows?_


	2. Balder’s Outlook

Prince Agnarr sat in the pew, listening to the gentle chant of the choir. Beside him sat his father, eyes fixed on the prayer book in his hands. On the other side of the Prince were his two sisters, dressed in their fine dresses, squirming and whispering. Agnarr drummed his fingers against the prayer book. He never had understood religion, or God, for that matter. It was something his father cared about, and a lot of other people too, for the little church was filled. In his schooling Agnarr had started to learn other languages—latin being the first. Important for a worldly Prince. Important for a pious Prince. Important to be King. But Agnarr had never heard his father speak the language, nor read any text in its language. Why must Kings learn seemingly unimportant things?

The service concluded. Agnarr raced out of the chapel as fast as he could. “Come along girls, time for your lessons!” Echoed the voice of the governess. Across the courtyard he ran to the stables. He closed the grand door behind it, leaning against it to catch his breath. He watched it appear in the air, a small cloud. It should be warmer by now, but nature had other plans, and kept the ground frozen and the snow plenty. He had overheard his youngest sister say it was because mother was gone. She was the one who brought about the spring.

“Prince Agnarr, is that you?” From behind a stall door came the voice of Christian, the stablehand. He appeared over the stall door with a glow to his freckled face. His muddy hair falling across his face.

“I’d like to go riding.” The Prince announced, already heading towards the tack room.

“Is Lieutenant Lieutenant Mattias with you?” Christian responded.

“Er,” Agnarr began.

“Don’t lie to me boy,” Christian stepped out of the stall and placed his handful of brushes down.

“I would like to go alone. Please?” He stood tall and smiled, a smile always worked with the royal staff—for an extra candy, another slice of cake, or one more lap around the meadow.

“Your father wouldn’t allow it, you are too young.” Christian picked up a broom. “You could help me clean instead.”

Agnarr laughed. “I bet you were out riding by yourself when you were my age.” To Agnarr, Christian was the finest rider in the Kingdom, and the one who had taught him how to ride.

“Perhaps I was, but horses were my family’s trade. It was second nature to all of us.”

“Fine. I’ll go fetch Lieutenant Mattias.” Agnarr turned and stomped out of the stables. He had always wanted to ask Christian about his childhood. Rumor was he came from across the south sea, and had trained horses at a great King’s stable. Agnarr’s father always said such questions were too personal, one should avoid forming such relations with those beneath you. That was just the way it was.

The Prince trekked back into the castle. He looked above to the sky, still overcast, still sad. He wondered when the world would move on. He wished everyone would be happy again. Even as he walked the halls of the castle, those passing by frowned at him, with pity and and to the door of the council room. He could hear voices inside, and so he paused to listen.

“My King, the Northuldra have agreed to come to us to talk about our plans. The meeting is arranged a months from now, when Spring will hopefully be here. They will bring a small party with them. Our guard will be ready incase of any…disputes.”

“Good. Good. Has the architect sent back the final drawings?”

“Not yet, but we can enquire—”

Agnarr pushed open the door, ceasing the conversation. “I…I was looking for Lieutenant Mattias.” Agnarr’s eyes scanned the room, and there, with a group of other guardsmen. King Runeard dismissed the Lieutenant, saying nothing to his son.

“What’s this about young Prince?” Mattias laid a hand on the Prince’s shoulder, guiding him out into the courtyard.

“I wanted to go on a ride, but Christian insisted you needed to come.” Agnarr crossed his arms. “I want to go to Balder’s outlook.”

“Why that would take a whole day, that’s so far north…where ever did you get the idea?” Mattias shook his head.

“It was on some map! Oh please! You never let me go far!” Agnarr swung open the stable doors.

“Whatever you say your grace…” Mattias sighted. He knew they would never make it that far, but if he told the boy they would, it would at least make him happy, and it seemed the Kingdom needed a little bit of that.

❈ ❈ ❈

Iduna skipped through the woods. She leapt across the muddy puddles and melted snowbanks. The woods looked rather dreary this time of year, no longer blessed by the beauty of winter, but the warmth and light of spring had yet to come. Still, she thought it was beautiful. The forest, no matter the time of year, would always seem to be a place of both mystery and splendor.

While she ran she could feel the breeze against her, loosening her hair from its braid, lifting her ever so slightly off the ground. The spirits of these woods worked in strange ways, but she enjoyed the way the wind danced with her. She never feared its howls at night, its sharp bite, or lonesome calls when it brought in the rain and clouds. There was something about it that always made her smile.

“Iduna! Iduna! Time to stop playing!” Her father appeared above on the edge of the rocky ridge.

She looked up to him. “Why?” If only she could be left to play in the woods for an entire day, that would be perfect.

“We have to get going if we’re going to make it to Balder’s Outlook and back but sunset. Come on!” Her father started to walk back towards the village, and curious about their adventure, ran off to join him.

“Why do we even have to go? Can’t we get berries here?” She called after her father.

“These are special berries! We need them for the festival!” Iduna rolled her eyes. How could berries be special? Her father, sensing her disdain, stopped. “They’re the most beautiful shade of yellow, like the sun, and the only place in the world they grow is by Balder’s Outlook. Besides, it’ll be an adventure!” Her father reached out his hand and she took it, and the walked back to the village together.

Iduna waited patiently as her father harnessed the reindeer. They would be taking a small cart in order to collect the berries. His work stopped when his wife came hurrying down the path.

“Isá!” He called out, for she seemed to not even see him.

“Dáidu…” She paused, standing distanced from her family. “My father has agreed to meet with King Runeard two moons from now. He met with messengers yesterday. We will be going to them.”

“Can I go?” Iduna piped, running over to her mother.

“No, no.” Her mother placed her hand on Iduna’s head, turning her around. Isá’s face, usually warm and inviting, was solemn. Iduna had never seen her mother like this before. “Its a meeting for adults. We’ll talk about this later.” She looked to her husband, but was quick to hurry away, wrapping her scarf around her as the wind rattled the trees.

“Wait, Mama!” Iduna ran to her mother, wrapping her arms around her leg. “I need a hug goodbye!”

Isá picked up her daughter, Iduna’s happiness settling all of her worries. She placed a kiss on her forehead. “Be good for your father, and come back in time for supper.” She whispered, putting Iduna back down. Then she took the scarf from her back, the most beautiful color, dyed from dewberries, with patterns woven through it. She wrapped the scarf around her daughter’s shoulders. “There, now you’re ready.”

Iduna and her father rode out of the woods and across the great meadows. They took turns making up stories, playing games, and telling jokes. The time passed quickly, the sun not even halfway through the sky, barely visible under the clouds, by the time they reached their destination.

The plains met the edge of the mountains, where pines and boulders stood to guard the path. If one followed the road it would lead to the Kingdom of Arendelle. Balder’s Outlook was known by all to separate the lands of the north from those of the Kingdom. If you stood on the ridge, you could look over all of the meadows, and even see the Northuldra forest on the horizon. Around this ridge grew a bush with yellow berries, unlike any others on the fjord. They made jams and dyes, and even used as faceprint for the festival.

Dáidu tied the reindeer to a tree, lifted Iduna from the wagon, and placed her atop his shoulders. “You’re getting a bit old for this,” he laughed, and set out to climb the ridge. There, he headed into the woods, where he started to collect the berries.

Iduna took the time to resume her dancing and playing. Unlike the birch woods, this one was filled with tall pines. As she played she came to a small clearing where several large boulders had been left, and to her, it looked like a mountain. I could see the whole forest from there…she thought. No sooner had the thought entered her mind than she found herself floating, gently guided by the breeze, and placed atop the boulder. While she could not see the whole forest, the view of the tops of the pines, and of the sky above, was quite lovely. _Thank you spirts…_

“Iduna? Iduna!” Her father’s frantic voice sound. He entered the clearing and looked up to where Iduna sat. “How did you get up there? Get down at once!” As easily as she had gotten up, the wind picked her up and brought her back down. She couldn’t stop giggling, the wind, visible by a gathering of leaves, rustled her hair, then her fathers, and then disappeared into the woods. Her father’s eyes, deep blue, were wide.

“How…how did you do that?” He dropped his bag of berries and kneeled to be eye level with her.

“Wasn’t it just the forest spirts? Don’t they help everyone?” She titled her head. The spirits of the forest always helped her people with whatever they needed. No one could control them, only ask them to listen.

“No, this…this is different. Does your mother know?” Her father’s brow furrowed, Iduna rarely ever saw him so worried.

“I don’t know…but whenever I play, the wind spirit, its always with me. I can’t really control it, but if I think about it, its there.” Iduna shrugged, it didn’t seem so big of a problem to her.

“You see, your family, has magic running through it. The leader of the Northuldra, they are blessed by the forest with the powers from one of the spirits.”

“So does Mama have it? Does Grandpa?”

“No. You see, when one has a child, the powers are passed on. The forest always gives them to those who are meant to rule.” Her father stood, and took her hand. “There is a story of a Chief with three daughters. The youngest was bestowed the gift, as the forest chose her to rule. That is why your family has ruled, because the forest allows them too.”

None of this made sense to Iduna. She was meant to rule? But Grandpa was ruler…and she didn’t even consider her gift a power. It was simply there.

“We’ll talk to your mother about this when we get back, come on.” Hand in hand they walked through the woods, collecting berries as they went.

❈ ❈ ❈

At long last Agnarr could tell they had reached the outlook. The path sloped down to a rocky ledge. He urged his horse, a steel grey pony he named Magnus, after a great King, to continue down the path. Agnarr’s guard followed behind, but kept his distance. When Agnarr reached the ledge he gasped. For what looked like forever stretched the great meadow, and on the edge of the horizon, was the enchanted forest. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Magnus’s neck. The pony had been a gift for his fifth birthday, two years ago, and had been his most trusted companion.

“You’re my best friend…” He whispered, sitting back up to stare at the beauty of the plains.

“We should head back your Highness, we’ve travelled very far.” Mattias called.

“A few more moments!” Agnarr replied. A breeze came from the woods, Magnus flicked his ears, and Agnarr could feel it as it passed over his head. He closed his eyes, and for a moment, he thought he could hear a gentle voice, like a call, coming from the woods.

“Prince Agnarr!” Mattias cried again, this time turning his horse around and starting on the road home. Given no choice he turned his pony around and followed him back.

From the cover of the forest Iduna peeked her head out. Her father had instructed her to take a bag of berries back to the wagon. She watched the two riders, clad in beautiful green, with horses that looked so mighty. It was the first time she had ever seen people from Arendelle, and it was the first time she had ever seen a prince. Now she wished more than ever her mother would bring her to visit them in two moons time, but she was only a child, and so she would stay at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note about Iduna's powers! While Frozen 2 answered a lot of questions, it seemed unclear to me if Iduna actually had any powers, or was simply connected with the forest spirits. There is also a theory that Agnarr's family "carried" this magic, as evident by some text in the book he references about the trolls. I'll be going with the idea that Iduna was indeed special with regards to magical "powers," but the ones she had were no near the level of Elsa's. Instead of being powers, it was more of a gift of being very in tune with nature, especially the spirit of air. 
> 
> Again, any suggestions or other theories are welcome!


	3. Birthdays

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait on this one. I rewrote it a few times before settling on this version, and life is pretty busy. I'm also working on mapping out the storyline for this. Things will start to pick up soon, and I'll try not to take too long for them to finally meet!
> 
> Hope you enjoy. As always, any feedback is greatly appreciated!
> 
> Historical note: Princess Caroline is fictional, but her brother is real. Why they would be in Arendelle is a bit of a stretch, but Arendelle having any diplomatic strength is questionable is it seems very small from the movies. However since it is fictional to begin with, I'm just rolling with it. I'm assuming the "Southern Isles" are their own separate kingdom, and even further south is Denmark, for the purpose of trying to create some historical context.

A year had come and gone, and once more, the snow gave way to mud, the clouds to sun, and the dreary darkness to bright light. Children were a bit taller, some a bit wiser, and for others, their change came with the world around them. Like how many had seen their first snow a few moons earlier; now they danced in the growing grass, stargazed during the warm nights, and picked the newly budding flowers.  
  
The village, once the snow had melted, moved from their winter home in the woods out to the northern meadows, where the reindeer would make their home for the spring in summer. While the woods were truly magical, Iduna loved the open plains. You could see for ever, some said the horizon you saw was the land of the spirits. At night the stars were so bright, even brighter than they had been in the woods, so much so that you felt like you could reach out and touch them.  
  
Several weeks had passed since everyone had settles. People lived in family groups surrounding a central area, where the Chief Bierrán lived. Areas were dedicated to cooking, crafting, and caring for reindeer. Just like in the woods, they lived as their ancestors always had. Everything in perfect harmony.  
  
Not everyone had made the journey north this spring. A small group stayed behind, they were to guide the forest. Work had started on the dam King Runeard had gifted the Northuldra, but Bierrán worried leaving left their ancestral lands wide open. Secluded in the woods were his finest hunters, watching the builders, protecting the forest.  
  
Iduna overheard all of this from her parents. They talked in whispers, or sometimes spoke plainly, thinking she was too young to understand, but she knew it all. She kept her knowledge hidden, for if they knew, they would stop talking about it. Iduna wanted to learn all she could about the kingdom. Did they move north for spring? Did they heard reindeer? Did they live in woodlands? If she kept listening, perhaps, her questions could be answered.  
  
On this morning, sunny and warm, she walked with her parents out to the herd of reindeer. Moving to the meadows also meant plenty of celebrations: dances, games, and birthdays. Iduna’s mother had been born in spring, on a day like this. She never cared much for celebrating it, not many of her people did. But Iduna’s father thought otherwise, and tried to make one day in the spring a bit more special than the rest.  
  
“I see something blue!” She walked while holding onto each of her parents hands, giggling at the game they were playing.  
  
“The sky?” Her mother responded, and Iduna quickly nodded. “Alright. I see something…brown.”  
  
“That hawk!” Dáidu responded, pointing to where to where the bird flew. He dropped Iduna’s hand and stayed back, as the two continued walking.  
  
“Papa, you need to say something!” Iduna and her mother looked back to where Dáidu had stopped, cupping something in the palm of his hands, his eyes only fixed on Isá. When Iduna’s mother walked back over he opened his hands to reveal a ring.  
  
“Who made this?” Isá remarked as the ring was slid onto her finger. Jewelry was not commonplace, for people believed true beauty was reserved for nature.  
  
“Doesn’t matter. You’ve been working a lot this past year, you deserved a gift.” Dáidu reassured her, and Iduna watched as her parents kissed, and then her father leaned and lifted Iduna into his arms. She looked at her mother’s hand, and the ring, a thin silver metal, adorned with three small green gems. If true beauty could ever exist, Iduna decided it would have to be within the ring.  
  
“How much did his cost?” Isá remarked.  
  
“Some furs, some wood carvings…” Dáidu shrugged.  
  
Iduna was carried in her father’s arms until he grew tired, placing her down and telling her to go play. She didn’t go far, but ran alongside the breeze as it carried small flowers.  
  
“Do you think she’s happy?” Isá asked her husband. In response he embraced her, and together, they watched Iduna play.  
  
“Of course she is, she has everything she could ever want, and the whole world at her hands.” He chuckled.  
  
“I know, but I worry. We’ve been the center of her life, but one day, Bierrán won’t be alive, and I won’t be able to care for her like I used to.”  
  
“You turned out alright, and Bierrán became leader fairly young.”  
  
“I had younger siblings to care for…I wonder if she gets lonely…” Isá looked to her daughter, putting a hand to her chest, memories of pain and sorrow evident in her expression. Some things were simply not meant to be. Sometimes the spirits work in mysterious ways, that was what her mother always said.  
  
“I think you worry too much.” Dáidu remarked. “Something tells me your father isn’t ready to stop leading anytime soon.”  
  
“I hope so, I rather like our little life.” She kissed her husband’s cheek before breaking away and running off to join Iduna, where the wind danced between them as they raced to the reindeer herd.  


❈ ❈ ❈

The breeze danced all the way down through the meadow, through the enchanted forest, across the great southern plains, and into the Kingdom of Arendelle. Prince Agnarr leaned against the railing of the balcony, looking out to the rest of the castle, and beyond that, the fjord. His mind could only think of tomorrow, his birthday. There would be gifts and food and celebrating, but this week, impeding on the Prince’s birthday, was a gathering of the popular names of the world. Behind him the throne room was filled with ambassadors, nobility, and distant family. King Runeard enjoyed displaying his wealth and power, so whenever there was an opportunity to bring others into his lands, he acted on it. Exactly why they were here, other than to honor the young prince, remained a mystery.  
  
A hand touched his shoulder. He turned to see the grinning face of his younger sister Arianne. She was the spitting image of their mother, with long deep brown hair, green eyes, and an ever happy disposition. “Papa says you need to come!” She took his hand and led him back into the room, where they were lost in the sea of foreign dignitaries.  
  
“May I introduce my son, Prince Agnarr of Arendelle.” He bowed and joined his sister’s side, looking up to the people his father stood beside.  
  
“May I introduce Prince Christian Frederick of Denmark, and his sister Princess Caroline Elisabeth.” Agnarr stared at the two nobles. Frederick looked a bit older than the King, but was much smaller in stature. Beside him, dressed in a deep navy dress, was the Duchess. Her deep brown hair pulled back, adorned with decorative ribbons. Agnarr had never seen anything quite like it.  
  
Sensing his father’s stare, Agnarr bowed, then his eyes were once more fixed on the strangers. He had seen foreign nobles before, but he had never really paid attention to them. Now he could see the wealth and splendor within them, from the way the Prince stood to the smile of the Duchess. It fascinated him.  
  
“What a handsome little prince!” The Duchess exclaimed. “Takes after his father I see.”  
  
“My cousin, King Frederick, sends his regards to your Kingdom. He is very interested in how you are constructing the dam far north.” The Prince of Denmark and King Runeard turned to talk, and the Princess approached the two children.  
  
“Are you really a Princess? Like me?” Arianna asked, a smile brimming across her face.  
  
“Why yes I am.” Caroline leaned down until she was eye level with the girl, and pushed a loose curl behind her ear.  
  
“Why are you here?” Agnarr asked, attempting not to sound rude.  
  
“Well King Frederick wishes to keep good relations with Arendelle, so he sent my brother and I for this diplomatic meeting—oh, and to say our good wishes to you! Besides, my cousin isn’t on the best terms with my father, so its best to distance ourself from them.” She blushed, realizing her words meant nothing to the young children. “Never mind that. Now, what do you children do in this grand castle?”  
  
“Play!” Arianna shouted. Agnarr stood silent.  
  
“What do you say we get away from all these stuffy adults?” Caroline extended her hand to Arianna, who took it and lead her through the crowd and out of the throne room. Agnarr had no choice but to follow them.  
  
Arianna led them through the castle halls until they reached the library. The room served as the family’s parlor, where in the evenings, when the Queen still lived, the family would spend their evenings. Like all the rooms, the candles and fire were lit, creating a warm glow to a room that now felt dark.  
  
“Come play!” Arianna settled on the carpet near the fireplace, picking up the dolls she had left behind, while the Duchess took a seat on a nearby sofa. Agnarr stood, knowing his father expected him to be back in the royal hall. He knew sneaking away like this was wrong, but he knew if he were too talk, it would only upset his sister, and seemed truly happy.  
  
“I hear you have another sister, where is she?” Caroline questioned.  
  
“Wilhelmina!” Arianna exclaimed. “She’s asleep now, she’s too young to stay up.”  
  
And so, with the light of the fire, they laughed and played. Agnarr settled beside his sister, and found himself enjoying Caroline’s company. There was a warmth from her, a certain happiness he hadn’t felt in a long time.  
  
Caroline’s eyes looked over to the grandfather clock nestled in the corner of the room. “I best get back, my brother will be wondering where I am.” She stood and curtseyed. “Prince Agnarr, Princess Arianna.”  
  
It wasn’t long before their governess, an older woman who had look after King Runeard when he was a child, found them and put them to bed. As Agnarr lay awake he thought of the evening, how fast it had all happened, and how to longed to be back in the throne room, to see all the new faces, to meet people from all around. He could still here voices, and the distant sound of a piano.  
  
He was restless, and after laying awake for an eternity, he decided to go for a walk. As Agnarr started to open the door footsteps and voices—without making a noise he held the door, and himself steady. Through the opening he saw his father and his royal advisor walking down the hall.  
  
“It was wrong of you to bring them here.” Runeard snapped.  
  
“We could all benefit from a formal alliance with their Kingdom. The Southern Isles are rumored to be trying to form a trade agreement, so we must strike now.”  
  
“And a marriage would help secure our alliance?”  
  
“I—“  
  
“I never wish to see them again. Any negotiations will be done through diplomats.” The King then started away, but his advisor gave one last word.  
  
“May I suggest, my King, that children need a mother? That a kingdom, needs a queen?” The advisor stood, shaking, waiting for the King’s wrath.  
  
“I don’t remember hiring you to be a nanny, or a friend. Goodnight.” The King then disappeared into the shadows of the hallway and the advisor sulked away. Agnarr shut his door and crawled back into bed.  
  
Without warning, uncontrollably, he started to cry. He couldn’t recall the last time he had done so. When his father yelled when he interrupted him at work, he simply turned away. When he fell from his pony, nearly breaking his leg, he stood right up. When his mother died, and with her his baby brother, he held his sister tight. He had never know tears.  
  
But now, he knew his future. The warmth that the princess had brought. Her smile, her excitement, and her choice to spend her evening with them made his world all the brighter. He could never have that. His father had taken it away from him. Selfish. Cruel.  
  
When his eyes burned and no more tears came he wrapped his quilt around himself, closed his eyes, and wished he would wakeup. He knew, when he woke, everything would revert to how it should be, where his father was kind, to where his mother was here. Tomorrow was the most special day of all, for he would be a year older, and what better gift than for him to finally wake up. Yes, he just had to sleep, and then all would be well again.


End file.
